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whether certain words belonged to the line above or the line below. In certain areas the words did not appear to form any lines as they rose above or curled around blotches on the sheet. Alinor also wondered whether Salisbury had bothered to cut the quill, or whether he had merely plucked the feathers from some unfortunate bird and used them in their natural state. The heavy flow of ink had smeared; a's, o's, e's and c's appeared indistinguishable, as did m's, n's and w's.
Ian's brow contracted. "Yes, but it is not really funny. It will take hours and hours to decipher that, and I must go out again after dinner if we are to take the reavers. Yet I must know what he says."
"If you will trust me," Alinor suggested, "I will write you a fair copy."
"Of course," Ian said, and snapped his fingers. "It is so foolish. I know you can read and writeI have seen you at it and doing accounts, toobut it is so odd a thing for a woman that it goes out of my head. But do you think you can manage this? A tale or a letter written by a scribe is a far different thing"
Alinor laughed. "More easily than you could, I suppose. My heart warms toward William of Salisbury. This letter is so like unto my grandfather's scrawls that I must love Salisbury for its sake. Go and unarm yourself, Ian, and I will set dinner forward and get to work on this.

A week before Salisbury's message arrived at Roselynde Keep, Salisbury had been reading a letter from his wife. When he finished, he stared into space for a time. Eventually a slow, amused, and affectionate smile softened his worried expression. He sighed and rose. He had done what he could, and failed again, and now John had slipped completely into apathy. Since he could do no good, he might as well go home. Still smiling, he carried his letter with him and craved audience with his brother.

 
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